They brush spindly fingers against the stone, feeling out the etch of the fossil, the smoothness of the rock.
And then they shriek: one single, high-pitched note, akin to a tea kettle boiling. It's unclear what kind of emotion this stands for; it goes on for an unnerving amount of time, and then all at once it stops, and the Postmaster General stares at Brienne.
But they're clutching the stone to their chest, so.
no subject
They brush spindly fingers against the stone, feeling out the etch of the fossil, the smoothness of the rock.
And then they shriek: one single, high-pitched note, akin to a tea kettle boiling. It's unclear what kind of emotion this stands for; it goes on for an unnerving amount of time, and then all at once it stops, and the Postmaster General stares at Brienne.
But they're clutching the stone to their chest, so.
It's probably good.]